


A little tighter, darling

by wastedonyoursmile



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Crossdressing, M/M, No angst just porn, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, bc science says it'd be hot, first-time, i guess??, jaskier in a corset, yeah idk how to tag :)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:40:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26725297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wastedonyoursmile/pseuds/wastedonyoursmile
Summary: Geralt lacing Jaskier up in a corset.That's it, that's the fic.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 4
Kudos: 175





	A little tighter, darling

**Author's Note:**

> I'm posting this now before I lose my nerve. This was written way back and I argued with myself over whether a corset fits the time period, eventually caving to possibly not being... Historically accurate. But after the bts footage, I've decided whether or not it's accurate doesn't matter cause The Witcher is nebulous.
> 
> Un-betad and self-indulgent bc. Jaskier. In. A. Corset.

The tug and slide of the ribbon through Geralt's fingers is unexpectedly pleasing, as is the feeling of pulling the fabric tighter and tighter against Jaskier's slim frame. The fabric is soft, yet strong and unyielding. The room is quiet except for the sounds of the ribbon as it slips through the fastenings, almost soft and melodic. Geralt finds himself thinking of how to describe the sound, it isn't quite a drag and it isn't sharp or loud but it also isn't fully quiet. The motions are soothing, the repeated process of tugging and tightening, hands gliding. He tries not to linger, not to let his fingers smooth down the fabric too often; fights against the urge to rub his hands down Jaskier's sides and grip at his waist.

Geralt had expected him to complain through the whole process, yet Jaskier is quiet; something Geralt is not used to, but thankful for in the moment just the same. Every other tug Jaskier emits a soft sigh or a quick catch of breath, but does not use his voice. And though the moment is hushed and soft, the air is thick, almost humid. Geralt can feel heat pooling in his belly, warm and coiling, steadily growing embers building a flame throughout his body.

The work is almost done. The edges of the corset almost kissing, the tightness making Jaskier's waist seem sharper, hips more defined whilst making his shoulders broader. Geralt gives one last sharp tug and then ties the ribbon together, pausing momentarily to decide if he should simply tie a knot or make a bow.

Once the last step is done and the bow is tightly woven together he lets his hands smooth down Jaskier's back and then up again.

"Geralt?" 

"Hmm?" He can't take his eyes off Jaskier's bare shoulders, wants to place his mouth on Jaskier's skin and lavish it with his open lips and tongue; find out if it's as soft as it looks, if it tastes as good as he's imagined. Now that the hypnotic motion of tightening the corset to Jaskier's frame is done he lets his senses fill with Jaskier's scent, warm with a light tang of salt and the smell of earth. His head is swimming and the embers coiling through him are turning to roaring flames.

He can feel the want between them like a physical presence. Knows without asking that Jaskier is feeling as drunk on desire as he is.

"Geralt, for love of Melitele, touch me lest I expire on the spot," Jaskier says finally, voice soft and pleading.

"Jaskier." Geralt means to be admonishing, but even to his own ears he sounds desperate and needy.

Jaskier turns his head slightly to the side so he can see Geralt, his eyes dark and his eyelids heavy, "Geralt, please."

Geralt doesn't hold himself back this time as he has so many times before, lets his hand reach for Jaskier's face to turn him a touch more so he can get at Jaskier's mouth. Jaskier's lips are already slightly parted, bottom lip red from his own teeth. Geralt drinks in his face, let's himself drown for a moment in Jaskier's eyes before closing the small distance and kissing him softly. It's a gentle brush of lips against lips that leaves them both breathing shakily. Jaskier makes a small whine when their tongues touch, laps his own against Geralt's and scrapes his teeth over Geralt's taste buds.

The gentleness falls away in an instant when Jaskier reaches his arm back and tightly grips at the back of Geralt's head with his fingers, pushing forward and delving into Geralt's mouth hungrily. Geralt grasps at Jaskier's waist with his free hand, not wanting to give up his grip at the join of Jaskier's throat and shoulder, and pulls him flush against his own body. His hands roam everywhere he can touch, from Jaskier's hip to his stomach to his chest, the fabric of the corset smooth against his rough palms.

Jaskier finally pulls back to breathe and release his neck from the awkward angle, but keeps his nails dug into Geralt's scalp as he latches his mouth onto Jaskier's shoulder the way he had wanted to earlier. He rubs his mouth wetly over the decidedly soft skin, lets his tongue lap up the taste of Jaskier before moving on and sucking wetly and deeply at Jaskier's throat. The moan his ministrations illicit from Jaskier makes his breeches feel impossibly tighter. 

He sucks in a mouthful of flesh, tongues at it, and then bites down. His breath is coming out harsh and loud through his nose, but he keeps his grip with his teeth, tightens his jaw until Jaskier is trembling and pushing back against Geralt to rub his arse against his hardness roughly.

Jaskier cries out, raising up onto his toes for better purchase to rub himself against Geralt. "Fuck. Geralt! Fuck. Don't-- don't stop. Whatever you do, don't stop." He grips at Geralt's hip forcefully, trying to get them closer. Jaskier's only in his pants, the thin fabric allowing Geralt to press into him, lets him feel the slight give off his supple arse enough to imagine vividly how it might feel if they were completely naked.

Geralt can smell Jaskier's wetness in the air, wonders how much of a mess he's already left inside his pants and decides he needs to know the answer first hand. He has to root a little up into the hem of the corset to get at the waist of Jaskier's pants and gets momentarily distracted by the coarseness of the hair on his lower abdomen.

"Please, Geralt. I can't take much more of this," Jaskier says, voice wavering.

Geralt allows himself to drag his nails through Jaskier's hair a touch longer as he noses his way across the back of Jaskier's neck and nudges his head in the other direction so he can give this side of his throat the attention it deserves. He slips his hand inside Jaskier's pants at the same time he slots his mouth over the unmarred skin of his neck, wasting no time in getting his hand around Jaskier's length. He is as wet as Geralt imagined him to be, the feel of it almost as good as the smell. Wet enough that he doesn't need added spit to make the glide of Geralt's hand smoother, at least for the moment.

"How long have you been hard?" Geralt murmurs against Jaskier's throat.

"Since about the fourth time you cinched this damnable thing. Do you have any idea how that felt? It was maddening. Oh! Yes, right there, just like that! And it didn't-- Fuck yes, do that again-- And it didn't stop, you kept tugging it tighter and tighter, it's… It feels unimaginably-- Melitele, you have such talented hands. It feels so good. The corset, I mean. Not that-- GERALT!"

"Sensitive there?" Geralt rumbles and drags Jaskier's earlobe back into his mouth, suckling at it as if he was sucking on Jaskier's cock.

"An understatement, Witcher." Jaskier moans between hitching breaths, his body beginning to tremble anew everywhere they are pressed together.

Geralt keeps mouthing at his ear as he pulls his hand out of Jaskier's pants, leaving off momentarily to give into the need to taste Jaskier's seed. He licks the taste from his palm, feeling that primal urge to take and fuck and lose himself inside Jaskier's body. He licks until the taste begins to fade slightly; Jaskier whining into his ear as he watches Geralt. Using his unoccupied hand, he tugs Jaskier's pants down enough to expose his cock and bare his arse. He quickly spits in his palm and takes Jaskier back in hand, attempting to get his own breeches undone one handed. He needs to feel skin on skin, needs to rut against Jaskier and cover him in his own release.

He groans loud and long at the first feel of his cock sliding against the cleft of Jaskier's arse. Words are left behind them as they move together, moans sporadically breaking up the harsh panting mingling in the air along with the sound of skin on skin.

Geralt sinks his teeth into Jaskier's shoulder when the bard uses his own hands to pull his cheeks apart so Geralt can press even more intimately against him. He wraps his arm tightly around Jaskier's waist, pressing them together as tightly as possible. They set a bit of a rhythm, Geralt jerking roughly at Jaskier's cock as they rock together.

Geralt can feel the telltale quiver in his thighs begin, the tightening in his balls that makes him chase blindly at his quickly approaching climax.

He's molded to Jaskier's back, face tucked against his throat, mouth open and breathing roughly into Jaskier's ear. Surging forward he takes the lobe back into the heat of his mouth and is rewarded with Jaskier's harsh cry as he spills over Geralt's hand; his release pulsing hot and wet and driving Geralt absolutely mad.

He grips Jaskier impossibly tighter around the waist and ruts roughly against him, his body trembling with the need to come.

"Are you going to cover me in your come, dear Witcher?" Jaskier absolutely purrs. "I'll allow it only if you lick me clean afterwards."

The very thought is like a strike of lightning to his body and he's coming instantly, finally, wetly painting Jaskier's arse in his release. The hot spurts of it are almost painful, but oh so good. He doesn't stop rubbing himself, and subsequently rubbing his seed, into Jaskier until long after he's fully spent.

They slump against one another, Jaskier's head tipped back on his shoulder slowly running his fingers through Geralt's damp hair and humming contentedly. Geralt doesn't have it in him to move just yet, to untangle themselves from each other. He feels sated deep into his bones.


End file.
